Carry On, Soldier
by Tragically Humorous
Summary: An existential view of Captain Rex and life as a clone: After all, he was a solider.


Carry On, Solider

An existential view of Captain Rex and life as a clone: After all, he was a solider.

* * *

Captain Rex was a solider.

Despite the reality that he was a clone, a carbon copy among thousands of carbon copies. He had been formed in The Original's likeness with a core of humanity at the center and created for that one purpose.

There had been adjustments to their DNA, precautions to their existence. The Original, labeled as sample X or more simply Jango, was known for having a ruthless and incorporative personality. It was hardly the ideal in a mass production of an army using such a callous template, but genetics were easily tampered with. Certain traits had been required to be chiseled away leaving a master piece of unyielding loyalty and unquestioning obedience in every clone.

Of course it was only through trial and error that finally brought forth the generations of clones that were battle bred and war ready. It was rumored that early batches of clones had been entirely unusable. The clones did not have any cultural or true ancestral history and so clung to these rumors as legends among them. One group of clones was whispered to have had an enhanced sense of self, and refused to cooperate for their bred purpose. Believing they were being used, they had attacked their creators and destroyed several batches of incubating clones before they could be contained. Another batch had grown with debilitating physical deformities, which he had heard of a clone #99 was the only trooper who had survived the extermination of his unit as being somewhat functional.

After all, what use was a defective clone when they were only bred for war?

Functional, but defective clones were used for demeaning purposes that infuriated him. His unfortunate brothers who just happened to have unwanted qualities or disfigurements became maintenance workers or disposal managers that disgraced their true purpose. They were warriors!

The stories were only gossips that had never been confirmed and were countless in quantity and absurdity. Rex tried not to think too much about a mythical group of clones that had attacked their makers. If he allowed his thoughts to roam from him, he couldn't help the rage that rose in his gut at the Kaminoans.

Regardless of his anger, he supposed he should be fortunate that he was engineered after the technique had been perfected. He was grateful for his limited humanity and his contribution to a greater cause even if he was genetically predisposed to obey their orders. It was still a bitter pill to swallow.

War was ugly and brutal; there was no denying or glossing over the fact. However, Rex found small comfort in the thought of the trillions of lives across the galaxy that were saved by the sacrifice of his brothers.

The sacrifice in itself, however, weighed down on him with every casualty report he was required to write after each altercation. Each name that lit his data pad was burned into his memory with a clarity that haunted him whenever weariness overtook him and his eyes finally shut from exhaustion.

They had been created to be the perfect soldiers. Mass-produced at a price for the Republic Senate who didn't have to worry about their children being sent off to die in a seemingly endless war.

If he thought about it too much, Rex would dwell on the Separatists, although they killed many innocents in their quest for domination, they used droids for their armies. In the end, who sacrificed more life? He and his brothers were expendable and hardly seen as more than biomaterial droids to the Senate.

They were created to die.

_He_ was created to die.

But he wasn't dead yet.

Again, he was fortunate. He had been assigned under a Jedi General who didn't see his soldiers as dispensable. General Skywalker saw each clone for what he was: a living, breathing, unique individual with a singular personality.

To repay that kindness, Rex served to the best of his ability, as was already in his nature. He never did anything halfway. During battles he tried to never let his General out of his sight, which turned out to be quite a challenge given General Skywalker's own reckless nature and talent for discovering unusual situations of danger. Of course the General also had a unique ability to discover an unconventional way to slip out of those situations.

Skywalker was a contradiction to everything they had been taught about the Jedi as cadets. They were taught the Jedi were calm beings in an ancient order that was structured and organized while they were utterly unattached to those around them.

The General was reckless, compulsive, unorthodox, and he would even go as far to say impassioned.

He was everything Rex knew the Jedi would need to win this war.

When the General had a Padawan assigned to his company as a commander, Rex was pleased to discover yet another person that followed in his General's ideals about the war and his men. He had been given strict instructions to watch the young one's back by the General, and he took those orders very seriously as respect for them continued to grow with each battle.

The Jedi Council did not always agree with his General's methods. Rex personally believed that if it wasn't for General Skywalker's excessive risk taking and eccentric attacks, the war would not have progressed as far as it had. More than a few strategic victories had been obtained through one of his unusual schemes with far less causalities than other Generals. Rex was grateful for the role he was able to serve in those plans, and in his heart he knew that he deeply appreciated his commanding officers. Because of their friendships, he gained resolve to keep fighting a war that wasn't his.

Through the victories, he was able to prove to himself that his existence had purpose, and that the sacrifice of thousands of his brothers was not in vain.

He couldn't allow it to be in vain.

He pressed on to the best of his ability; even when his brothers fell on his left and right on the battlefield, he persevered.

Even though he was wounded constantly in combat he gave little mind to the blaster wounds, fractures and broken bones that complied in each confrontation. If he could walk, he would fight.

Because that's what his brothers did.

Because that's what _he_ did.

It was carved out of the DNA that gave him life.

He was a solider.

* * *

Author's Note: Well I had a perfect idea of what wanted I to write in my head when I started this. Aaaand this is not it at all. Not even close.

I am somewhat pleased with the outcome, but the original train of thought ran away from me and created this instead. This is my first TCW fic. Constructive criticism is appreciated! I do plan on writing a lot more TCW because I am just obsessed with Rex and Ahsoka and since I finished reading every story with their pairing, I had to join in. (People, write more Rex and Ahsoka!)

Well hope you enjoyed this little snippet of…. Something. :)

-Tragically Humorous


End file.
